


Void Days

by ThoseFiveChicks



Category: Maggot Boy
Genre: Human!Owen, M/M, call of the void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseFiveChicks/pseuds/ThoseFiveChicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days were better than others, and this was not one of those days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Void Days

He hadn't gotten out of bed. When his alarm had gone off, he'd nearly broken it, suddenly realizing that yes, he could and nothing was stopping him except...

What even was stopping him?

And when Alice came in to remind him to get up, he'd said he was sick, which wasn't entirely a lie. Just looking around the room, all he could see were things he could break, destroy, and Alice's voice had only made him think of striking out at her.

No.

Not one of these days, please let it pass.

An hour later, it hadn't. Breaking things, that was still all, but occasionally it would be a person, someone who'd irritated him even slightly over the last few days, and in his mind they fell to blades and pens and, the very best— no, don't say that, never the best— his bare hands.

Alice left him to try to sleep.

And he did, on and off, but the sleep he had was not peaceful. He had vivid, violent dreams, and when he woke fully his mind wasn't on destruction.

It was on murder.

This happened from time to time, and by now he had a usual trick: think of Parker. Parker, holding his hand, Parker, wrapping his arms around him, Parker, snuggling up to him on the couch as he reached for a pair of scissors, Parker, with blood running out of his throat onto his shirt as the life—

_No_.

About halfway through the day, when he'd been intended to get up and eat lunch after Alice called to check on him, he'd broken a bowl on the floor. He'd thrown it hard, beaten it with a broomstick until the shards were too small to break any further.

He'd gone back to bed.

And he'd lain there, listening to a playlist Parker had made— a mix of quiet, soothing music and upbeat, peppy music for bad days, in his earbuds, just letting the sound distract him from what else his head had in mind. Any music worked for this, but there was something about Parker's music that was just...

Better.

He would spend the entirety of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon in bed, trying not to let things get too out of hand— and they fucking would anyway, because when did his brain respect his wishes— while the music played on as a distraction.

And at about four, the door to his room swung open, and a hand rested on his shoulder. He started— Alice and Tom weren't due back until after five— as the thought of breaking the wrist the hand was connected to entered his mind and suddenly—

It all just stopped.

The music played on, but everything in his head stopped as the hand on his shoulder turned into an arm around his waist and a body behind him in his bed.

“I know you're not sick,” said Parker, nuzzling his head into Owen's shoulder. “You okay?”

“'M fine,” he lied, pausing the music.

Parker knew it was a lie, he could tell, but he allowed the lie to pass, just pulled Owen closer and murmured, “Want me to stay?”

He didn't answer.

He didn't have to.


End file.
